


Heaven and Valhalla

by soprano_buddy15



Category: The Last Kingdom, The Last Kingdom (TV), The Warrior Chronicles | The Saxon Stories - Bernard Cornwell
Genre: Mentions of Thyra, Post episode 10, Season 3, Spoilers for Episode 10, big sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:26:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24413575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soprano_buddy15/pseuds/soprano_buddy15
Summary: SPOILERS FOR SEASON 3, EPISODE 10Finan and Sihtric retrieve Thyra’s body from the burned ruins.
Relationships: Sihtric & Beocca
Comments: 10
Kudos: 35





	Heaven and Valhalla

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Java_Blythe_Peralta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Java_Blythe_Peralta/gifts).



> HEYO.
> 
> This fic is a big sad, but I was curious as to see how Beocca would react to Thyra killing herself. And because I love Sihtric, and he would have a curious perspective on it, this fic was born!
> 
> Constructive comments are always welcome! Just don’t be rude, because nobody wants that.

Even though it had been several days since the fire, the wood was still smoldering as Sihtric and Finan walked through the ruins of Beocca and Thyra’s house. 

Beocca had been adamant that he would be the one to recover Thrya’s body, but Finan had sat down with the priest and explained to him that he did not have to do it alone. 

Beocca was still with Uhtred, and had finally told Finan that it would be okay for them to search the ruins without him.

Sihtric shifted one of the rafters that had fallen in the middle of the floor, and wrinkled his nose as he saw the burned body stuck on the floor. “Finan!” He called, pushing more rubble around. “I found something.”

Finan made his way over to Sihtric, and coughed when the smell of burning flesh reached his nose. “Oh, no.” Sihtric knew that even though it had been a few days since the fire, and the fire itself was brutal, both of them had an unrealistic hope that somehow Thyra was alive. 

Sihtric knelt down beside Finan. “Finan, this body is too large to be Thyra,” he said after examining the remains. 

“Good Jesus,” Finan ran his hands through his hair and locked eyes with Sihtric. “I bet you it was that turd Tidman.”

A rage that Sihtric did not know he possessed raced through him. It was one thing if an ember from the hearth had blown around and landed on the straw, but to have someone chase Thyra into her home and was an insult to all that she had endured. 

Sihtric knew that he could have done more for the woman when she suffered at Dunholm. Just a few times had he been sent as a young slave to bring her food, and he shuddered at the memory of her bloody skin and vacant eyes. 

The fact that she had found her family again and a pure and safe love warmed Sihtric. He was so relieved that she had a happiness and had loved seeing her bright smile, as well as her ability to snap back at Uhtred or Father Beocca. 

Sihtric frowned, and then looked around in relation to the foundation of the house. “Did she not have a hiding place?” He asked Finan, remembering the time Uhtred had hidden underneath the floorboards. 

Finan’s eyes went wide, and they hurriedly rolled the body off of the false floorboards, grimacing as the burnt flesh stuck to the wood. Finan crossed himself, but Sihtric was already pulling up the wood.

The body had protected much of the wood and Sihtric had to pull hard to lift the boards up. Yanking it, the planks finally snapped and Finan could help him pull it up. 

The fire had singed Thyra’s fiery red hair, and her skin was sunken and hollow. Soot covered her face and her lips were dry and cracked. She was curled in on herself, and if she had not been lying in a hole in the ground, Sihtric would have been convinced she was sleeping.

Finan sniffed as he and Sihtric gently lifted her out of the hole. Her body was stiff, as Sihtric knew would happen after death. They lay her on the floor, and Finan prepared to lift her into his arms and carry her to the church. 

“Finan, wait.” Sihtric gently moved her arms from around her middle, and gasped as the silver knife came into view. 

Finan brought his hands up to his face as he realized what had happened. “I- what do we tell Father Beocca?”

“Tell me what?”

Sihtric spun around as Father Beocca clambered over the rubble, posture stiff.

“Father,” Finan moved to help him climb over the last pile of wood. “Perhaps you should wait-“

Beocca stopped short as he caught sight of the knife in Thrya’s chest. “No,” he whispered, then fell on his knees and gently parted her hair around her face. “No!” 

Sihtric bit his lip at the distress that Father Beocca was going through. Glancing up at Finan, Sihtric knew that he was just as sorrowful as he was. 

“She won’t be in heaven,” Beocca gasped, finally catching his breath. Tears were streaming down his face. “She- _killed_ herself.”

“It was honourable.” Sihtric blurted out, and Finan spun to look at him, his eyes wide with warning. Beocca had frozen in his movements. “She died with honour on her own terms.”

Beocca stood up slowly, his face furious. He took a threatening step towards Sihtric, and Sihtric felt the rage radiating off of him. “How _dare_ you even - _suggest_ that Thyra would do such a pagan act?” Sihtric leaned back warily as Beocca stuck his face right up next to his own. Father Beocca was much shorter than Sihtric, but the way Beocca was acting made Sihtric feel quite small. “She was baptized as a Christian!”

“Father, we are all upset,” Finan gently laid his hands Beocca’s shoulders, but he angrily shrugged them off.

“She was happy with me, she would never leave me-"

Finan put his hands on Beocca’s shoulders again, and this time, the priest did not shrug him off. “Father, you cannot think about that.” He said softly. “She was happy with you. Never think she was not.”

Beocca backed down from Sihtric a little bit, and Sihtric released the breath he did not realize he had been holding. “Father, I meant no disrespect. We are all grieving with you.” He started, and Finan raised his eyebrows in warning. Gulping, Sihtric continued. “I will explain it all to you, if you let me.”

He waited, and was actually surprised when Beocca nodded curtly. “Thyra was a Christian. She meant her baptism.” Sihtric had never been so grateful to his mother for teaching him a little bit of the faith. He also gently squeezed Beocca’s arm. “But I think you must also remember she was raised a Dane.”

Beocca sniffed, his rage dissipating. “Her family died in-"

“Her father died from fire,” Sihtric corrected. He remembered the warriors talking about going to raid Earl Ragnar’s estate. “Her mother and grandfather also killed themselves.”

“How is that comforting to me?” Beocca cried. “She is _dead_.”

“Father, the point is that she did not suffer.” Implored Sihtric. “Breathing in the smoke alone…” Sihtric shook his head. “She avoided what is probably one of the most painful ways to die, Father. She did it her way. And I think we just have to believe that she is at peace, whether she is in Heaven or Valhalla.”

Beocca sniffed again, but Sihtric knew that it was not out of anger towards him. Sihtric glanced up at Finan, who met his gaze with a soft glance and nodded slowly, Finan’s own eyes slightly teary. 

Beocca knelt down beside Thyra again, his touch loving and gentle. The tenderness in Beocca’s gaze made Sihtric think of his own family, and he could begin to understand the loss that the priest was feeling. Kneeling beside him, Sihtric placed his arm around the priest and grieved with him, praying for her comfort.


End file.
